10 Farewell High-Fives

Good bye India. Today I start my journey home and have a flight to catch (with a 10 day stop over in Germany, of course - yipee!). However, I wanted to make a final (FINAL) post to re-cap Lyndia's India and high-five all I have loved, loathed and learned. I keep having ideas for lists pop into my head so... here is a list of the 10 Lists (so 11 lists in total?)

1. India-isms I'll Miss

2. India-isms I won't

3. Energetic Events of Powerful Personal Significance

4. Straight-Up Unexpected Sights

5. Most Memorable Quotes (from Others)

6. Stupidest Questions (byMe)

7. Food!

8. Photos I Took

9. Photos I Juuuust Missed:

10. Unbelievably Grateful for...

1. India-isms I'll Miss

a) walking-trains of sari-clad women    b) year-round growing season that provides vibrant greens & flowers

c) chai on every corner!                       d) 25 cents for a day's worth of produce

e) sunrise chants, songs and calls-to-prayer.

2. India-isms I won't

a) endless advertising overload      b) shouting as normal-volume

c) walking on-guard of potential poop underfoot      d) bucket-bathing

e) children with permanent dirt stained skin and teary eyes pulling at my pant leg and pleading for rupees.

3. Energetic Events of Powerful Personal Significance

a) moments on the serene beaches of the Ganga    b) feet soaking meditation in the pool of the Golden Temple

c) breathing in the prana of the Rishikesh hills         d) playing Holi in front of the Rosebowl

e) early morning Chakra-chanting                       ... f) Vishnodevi hike & all of Mcleod Ganj!

4. Straight-Up Unexpected

a) Hawks soaring over Delhi rooftops at breakfast    b) Hare Krishna Temple dance party

c) (as mentioned) seeing the Dalai Lama    d) (caution TMI (too much information) here) learning the fine art, uh science of bidet-style toilet-ing...
e) finding seats on the Hemkunt Express to Jammu (story coming soon)

5. Most Memorable Quotes (from Others)

a) "Ma'am? For how long should we hold this asana to attain Enlightenment?" - Doon yoga student.    

b) "Now I want to show you something Not in Lonely Planet, okay?" - awesome guide in Amritsar (story coming soon)

c) "For 13,000 Canadian dollars, can you take me to Canada with you?" - husband of a woman in the Ladies Waiting Room at a train station.

d) "Eat whatever you want. Do whatever you want. You are still young. You are fine." -Dr. Aurora as a summary of my first-ever Ayurvedic assessment

e) "If you aren't laughing four or five times a day you're not living, only breathing" - Yogi Vishvketu

6. Stupidest Questions (by Me)

a) "What do you call those little, tiny, baby mangoes?" A: Yes! Mangoes.

b) "Then how do you say "excuse me" with respect to someone younger than you?" A: Excuse me.

c) "Why is it called Chakarta Gate?" A: Because it's on Chakarta Road.

d) "Oh! What's happening at that village with all the fair rides and people? Is it a festival? Does it happen often?" A: It's a village fair. Usually once a year. (Me: Ah, just like at home...)

e) On seeing a black bear on a hill as pointed out by the driver. "Whoa! That's cool! Is it very common to see those here?" A: Umm, yes. That is the zoo.

7. Food!

a) parantha b) shahi paneer  c) malai kofta  d) Mystery grain porridge e) Chai! & Mithai! (trans. tea & sweets...but I already knew that)

8. Photos I Took (5 or more... of MANY more)

(see next post)

9. Photos I Juuuust Missed

(see next next post)

10. Unbelievably Grateful for...

a)...the ability to feel calm and one-ness in the chaos of an uncontrolled line of Ladies buying train tickets (story coming soon)

b) ...the month of hospitality at #83 Veejay Park in Dehradun!!

c) ...my Yoga Family who accommodated and understood my silence and self-relationship development

d) ...the nick-of-time guidance and spontaneous friendships!

e) ...a myriad of instances of clarity, confidence and connectedness in my own life

& f) ...poems, energy, flowing water, sunrise-skies, songs and colours, direction, dreams, advice and inspiration that I'll carry the rest of my life.

I <3 You India. I <3 You.

High Five #9

Photos I  Juuuust Missed:

(As such... these are the ones I have in lieu to remind me of those lost photo-treasures)

1. A mother teacher her two young daughters (about 6 and 8 years old) to carry 20L water vessels on their heads

2. An elephant in front of a fruit stand... here's a fruit stand at least? And some rather cool sleeping goats...

3. A surreal looking cow on a cliff-side garbage heap that is smoking and smouldering or just this cute non-garbage cow.

 4. The Doon school dining hall just before food is devoured! Or... some of the boys at an assembly?

 5. Two Buddhist nuns laughing on a stone bridge with burgundy robes flowing in the breeze... or one monk at the temple prayer wheels...

 6. THIS monestary like, 2 seconds in the future when the lightening bolted in the sky!
 










photos property of LyndiaP April 2011

Seasick (1/4)

The editor of this blog is delighted to announce that there will be a new feature given the author has had more time to, well, author and wants to share something that became a short story instead of a short blog post. Since it will still be published on the blog the editor wishes to a) make it manageable and b) create suspense by publishing the story Seasick in several installments.

The only apology that must first be made is that the pictures are not yet available to load but do check back and maybe by the end of the week they'll be up too! Oh and the author notes the "spell check" isn't functioning and repents spelling sins in advance.

Seasick (part 1 of 4)

Although I am currently in a land-locked location I am feeling a bit seasick. I've been Going With The Flow a lot lately and haven't quite got my sea legs... this relinquishing control does not come without rolling waves of confusion. At first I wasn't going to disclose all the details but after a resounding two-day sail, I changed my mind (for good reason, you'll soon see).

I arrived in Mcleod Ganj yesterday (April 8th) as noted in my travel blog. Before I came I did a bit of research (and infinitesimal amount compared to my usual standard) and read that one could "easily find accommodations near the bus depot." I was soon disheartened and sorely disappointed (emphasis on the sore) to find out both easily and near were relative in this case. Trekking up the first hill from the bus stand and into the main bazaar I found myself at a triple fork in the road. I could not choose. Mostly this was due to my ridiculously low capacity for decision-making as 99.729% of my bodily energy was consumed by standing, breathing, holding my second piece of luggage and fighting for my life... against gravity with my arch nemesis Forty-Liter-Backpack weighing me down like a small planet (slightly bigger than Pluto, of course, which is sadly no longer of planet-status). Before my demise I swayed forward and picked straight. Walk. Straight. My teetering course also managed to stay within a rough estimation of "the left side of the road" as is technically appropriate. That's two for two.

Down this road I passed so many tourist-apparel shops, coffee/Internet cafes and wooden-metal-jade trinket stands I nearly blacked out... no, that was the backpack again. But there WAS an extraordinary amount of these spots to spend money. Sadly I only noted two SIGNS for hotels but with no discernible doors... one more that looked 5-star swanky and I nearly inquired but had enough coherence to assess the risk: the shock of their potential room rates and my current physical strain could be enough for a fatal heart attack. I walked further. WAY FURTHER before I saw the Happy Home Room Available sign AND an arrow pointing to door. I refrained from weeping with joy and made my approach. I was first greeted menacingly by a narrow flight of stairs. Halting I turned back assuming I would neither FIT or SURVIVE said stairwell. But... I did it anyway. Reception Office? SECOND floor. ugh! At least the walls and stairs were an energizing, encouraging florescent orange?

I smiled weakly at the man at the desk on the other side of the glass Reception door, feebly pushing it open. Then in the most friendly pant I could muster I spurted, "Rooms available? ... for me? One. Can... you. Show. I see?... Ijustneedtoputmybagdownfirst!" And would have smothered an Adorable Animal Parade with the massive thing if need be, but luckily for the cute creatures they were not in the office but a sturdy bench was. Unsnap. Unclasp. Thud! GASP!

"It's on the second floor," was the first thing I remember the accommodating and understanding manager saying once I was free. In this case it meant the third floor but who's counting? That set of steps was like floating up clouds of whipped cream and angel dust - no bag? No problem!

And it was a lovely room: bed, TV, private bathroom, big sunny window with a view of the street and some hills. Done. For one night the necessities were here. I needed to clean and I needed to rest. Happy Home delivered. Back in the Office we talked costs - the charge was decent but a bit high at 550 rupees/night. Though I had enough foresight to negotiate a 50 rupee/night discount should I stay the whole week (if the meditation course fell through). He agreed and also suggested I take a rest, relax and have lunch before we sorted out all the details. I informed him I'd be out to use the Internet and we could finalize everything after that. Done and done.

I "ran" back up to room #204 and washed my hands and typically stained the sink grey with the grime of travel. After the dirt display of my hands that were NOT affixed to bus seats for 7 hours I knew that a wardrobe change would be required as well. The revoltingly dirty pants were thrown in the wash bucket for soaking and I noted the drain was more of a suggestion and noted that for the future washing process. I was excited: clean pants, checking email and rest!

As an aside I can't believe how simple it is to feel refreshed after a hard day of travel in India. Scrape off the dirt of the hands/feet/face (literally), go from pants rating 10 out of 10 on the grime-o-meter to ones that are a 6 on the same scale and breath in some fresh air from a sunny window: KAPOW! I'm brand new baby! Bring on the adventure. Well, not yet - let's just saunter to the nearest Internet cafe first. Result? Within six "doors" I found a place with a price breakdown that was reasonable and more prominent than the actual name of the place.

Most notable: 0-10 mins = 10 rupees and

60 mins = 50 rupees.

Sold! and directed to Computer #6.

Some catch-up with Facebook which informed me of some 'suspicious activity' on my account from the other side of India...ugh! And long-awaited email! Annnnd? No spot in the meditation course. Shoot! It (they... there was two emails) said if I hadn't paid by (first email) 4pm yesterday it wouldn't be held for me and (second email) 10am today they'd give it away as there were people 'in-person' to take it. That's fair. I wouldn't wait for me either if someone was there to pay immediately.

So I somewhat disappointedly updated my blog and emailed an apology email saying for polite-ness and without hope that I'd be in the next morning for the drop-in class and check back then but that I assumed it wasn't meant-to-be. (Look at that! Now I'm imposing my message of Go-With-The-Flow on other people!) Now course-less and backpack-less I decided to ACTUALLY look around a bit before going back to Happy Home. Basic exploration to get the lay of the tourist-land, scope out other accommodations (see if I was getting hosed), buy a juice - y'know. I went back to walking down Tourist Road and found Book-A-Bus-to-Delhi shops, Better-than-that-last-One Buddhist book stores, my juice (apparently 5-star as the price indicated, maybe because it included that delicacy 'apple') and a triple turn down-hill road. I took it for adventure's sake; past a Shiva temple (Hindu), a trail of prayer flags (Buddhist) and a breath-taking view of the snow-capped Himalayas (Mother Nature wins)! I realized THIS was what was missing from my current accommodations and since I was now 90% certain of needing a place for a seven-night-stay the phenomenal-ness of the view would be essential. Because if I go around the world to stay in a Shangrila setting... I wanna see the main attraction 3 times a day from the comfort of my own bed. Seriously! Or, at least, from the common rooftop patio or something.

Down the hill were a few selections:

the first was too snazzy (like valet parking)

the second was too-many stairs (like 40, really!)

the third was (potentially) juuuuust right!

to be continued...

by LyndiaP April 2011 (part 1 of 4).

Seasick (2/4)

My enquiry at the (potentially) juuust right third option Snow Height Apartment for Long and Short Term Stays Attached Kitchen was for kicks. Experience tells me words like 'Apartment' and 'Kitchen' are expensive. BUT cooking-for-oneself usually saves money. And it would make my upcoming days of silence more do-able. I popped in.

The office was also mostly a convenience store stocked with chips, pop, instant noodles and powdered milk. Stock actually worthy of note were cold juice and bottled water - could be handy to have nearby! I was shown room #7, up only 12 low-grade* stairs: do-able(*low-grade as in low-incline not of low-quality). It was nearly twice the size of #104 at Happy Home and also had a private bathroom and a sunny window... attached to a PRIVATE porch... looking out onto the hills and MOUNTAINS! Damn it! It was perfect! Clean too - and probably totally unaffordable! With its cute purple bedsheets, nice black counter-top in the kitchen area, bigger TV, two lovely wooden lounge chairs, most spacious bathroom I've had in India! Boo. Now I'll have to face the budget-breaking cost, say no and go back to ironically sulk at the Happy Home. Surely I'll also be cursed with jealous dreams of these richer folks with balconies overlooking idealized scenic wonderlands (always slightly exaggerated in dreams, of course).

I asked if there was "anything smaller? Opposite brick-wall facing? Less Awesome!?" with a tear in my eye. My chaperon doesn't negotiate room rates but he does know another room on the 'first' floor (relatively speaking, it's still one storey above ground) which is currently occupied but available soon. Considering this, I ask to stand on the not-so-private balcony to assess the view. It's even sunnier than the last room but the mountains aren't as instantly visible. That makes me feel better. Not ALL the rooms at Snow Height are Awesome with a capital A.

Back at the 7-11 of Hotel Lobbies I get down to business. Since I didn't see a cooking element/stove in the kitchen I note it for potential leverage in cost negotiations. The moment of reckoning: first round prices.

"Well," says the 7-11 clerk/hotel manager, "you get it today or tomorrow?"
"Is there a difference?"
"Room 7 is only open today and number 1 only tomorrow."
I consider this and reply disappointed already, "oh, not all week?"
He seems confused. "Yes, all week too. You need how long?"

Oookay bring on the miscommunication. "I guess it depends on the price. I have my bags somewhere e..."

"400 Rupees."

"What?" I shake my head slightly to help me hear correctly.

"400 Rupees," he repeats.

"Per night?" I clarify as if he was giving me an hourly rate for REEEEALLY short-term stays. Surely my eyes have already told him there will be no haggling from this customer.

"Yes, but after 400 and 400 and 400 then 800."

"ah, okay," I say knowingly but utterly confused. The price is awesome but only for two days? Ugh. Time to employ Tactic #1. "But the kitchen didn't have the stove..." I get a blank look. "Uh, stove? The cooking element." More blank-ness. "For cooking..."

"Gas?"

oh right. Gas. "Yes! Gas. Gas wasn't there," my syntax mutating like a chameleon.

"We put that in."

There goes that barter... "Oh, oh. Good. Yes. So the room is 400 rupees for the two nights but 800 after two?"

"No."

As usual I am stumped. No? 

I'm quite sure I didn't just fantasize paying double for no reason, unless this is all a dream... but it feels more like a rocking riot in a dinghy on a stormy Universal sea of Going-with-the-Flow... I feel a bit queasy. "So I pay 400 rupees for today and 400 for tomorrow. Then 800 rupees?" Learning from past experience rewording the question can be a bit like taking a Gravol and even out the waves of confusion. Here's hopin'.

"No. You pay only 400 rupees a night. 800 rupees later."

He almost had me there. I liked the first part and then got lost again, but getting closer. Wait! Maybe the first 'you' was singular and the second was plural. Maybe? One more Question-Gravol: "How much then is it for one week? From today 8 April until April," counting on my fingers, "14. Seven nights?"

"That is," tabulates on the calculator, "2800 rupees." YES! Internal fist-pump and attempting not to look desperately excited. I ask with all the calm I can muster, "and gas is 500?"

"No, gas is 300," the 7-11 manager sighs.

"right, 300 rupees for 5kg gas," I almost giggle with happiness. I would have actually giggled but as it stands this is the second room I am procuring for the same one night and the thought of Happy reminds me of the Happy Home where my bags are. Where the key in my pocket belongs. Some where in my mind I register the comment he makes, "and 5kg gas is enough for you."

"Okay. So. Now. ... My bags are somewhere else. So. What? Can? ... Is there something I can leave to hold the...?" In my head I'm also trying to work out the cost-recovery excuse/plan for the two-room situation.

His reply is resoundingly logical, "you pay in advance. Pay one night and after pay more." Clearly. The concept of a DEPOSIT had eluded me - the giving of money is certainly the customary manner of ensuring one's space be held in a transaction like this (something I clearly have had trouble grasping lately, as per the meditation course). I just hope I won't be paying for two nights accommodation tonight... I get my Official convenience store receipt and feel giddy that now my 400rupees/night is in writing (which, for those of you converting to Canadian dollars is roughly 10). I dig out a 500 rupee bill. He asks my name. I ask one more question:

"So is it pretty quite here?"

"Oh yes!" he assures me, "mostly all girls right now. And one monk. This is before all Indians come on holiday. Now is before April 16."

"That's good. Good." NOW I get it!! This is off-season = 400 and next week the price is jacked up = 800! Why didn't he just say that? Or, rather, why did he say anything about the week for which I WASN'T inquiring. No matter. He says I need a photocopy of my passport/visa and tells me where to get it. I'm also informed he can book taxis if I want. I confirm the location of the former ("straight" back up the three-turn hill) and reject the non-human-powered-conveyance.

BAM! Thank-you Flow! You've done it again! But... maybe over done it. I'm grateful for the 100 rupees change in my pocket but 2 rooms for one night? Wait. 100 rupees in my pocket. Like "to spare"... have half-conceived plan is brewing in my mind... and I'm not proud to say it but the first version of this plan was... Here I am in the town of Buddhism, religion of compassion and moral mindfulness, within 10 km of the residence of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama and I concoct a plan... to lie. Yes, my first idea was to lie to the people at the Happy Home! AND it was a good one. You'd've believed it! I even practiced it once on the first turn of the hill (which took my breath away as it was significantly more taxing than on the way down!)

Luckily for my conscience (nay, my soul!) by the top of the hill a new, more honest plan hit me like a burst of lactic acid in my hamstrings. It took until the orange steps of Happy Home to finalize it but I figured that I'd say something simple (like the truth) "I'm sorry for the inconvenience but I have other accomodations" and offer 100 rupees for their initial kindness/luggage storage. After the first flight of stairs though I pre-bartered my peace offering and decided to start it at 50 rupees in case that was considered enough for 3 hours storage (and the bit of secret laundry I'd wrap up in my towel and hid in my luggage to be unseen on the way out).

Fifteen minutes and 50 rupees later it was done, I was Happy and Happy Home-less... but not room-less. I was already half way back to Snow Height and thinking "a cab mighta been nice right about now," but struggled through it with the compassionate smiles and few cheerful, encouraging comments of random strangers in heavily accented English. (Really, three people commented in a friendly, non-hassling way and at LEAST five gave me the "you go girl" look... or at least the "you Crazy girl" look but I'll remember them all as the first version thankyouverymuch).

Plus passing on the cab probably saved me almost 50 rupees anyway. I figure I broke even for the day.

Now I sit here today at Snow Height (whoa! just realized... it rhymes with White, Snow White... and I'm "door" number 7: Snow Height, 7th Door! Ha! oh man, I'm funny) with my spacious room with a dedicated yoga-mat corner. Some laundry is now washed. My shawls and various souviners are displayed decorating wherever they can: I LOVE IT!

Oh and best of all... yes, I CAN see the snowy Himalayas FROM. MY. BED! (with purple sheets that match my earplugs). BooYeah!

To The Rockin' Flow of the Universe - Thank you! But the giving of all kinds of opportunity (and confusion) doesn't stop there, oh no! I also got pretty pumped about making my own Solo "Life-Meditation Course" schedule and made a plan with lots of yoga, writing, contemplation/meditation, (some) silence, (some) exploration and lots of Flow-Going. Very exciting indeed!

to be continued...

by LyndiaP April 2011 (part 2 of 4)

Seasick (3/4)

I failed to mention earlier that this course is actually "Intermediate." Something I am not actually qualified to take, but after three or four emails with the school professing my interest and providing my background they made an exception (thank you!) I Reeeeeeheeeely wanted to do a meditation course while in Dharmsala!!

Background: while in Jammu I got the email just in time to say I was accepted to take this course and emailed my thanks. Then I went on my pilgrimage to the Vishnodevi temple (wireless in the most literal sense) and didn't check my email for a bit. Sorry I didn't change my "out of office" to On Pilgrimage. I guess I didn't think of that. But the next email also said I need to pay a deposit online (okay, I skimmed over that part and definitely WOULD have paid my deposit...buuuuut didn't). So now that I re-read things I realized there was no luck for the course. BUT now that I had a GREAT room lined up I'd make my own course!

Thus the not-so-hidden talent of list-making was called to centre stage and last night I thought "I'll make this work! I'll throw something together!" and then it hit me - like a tsunami wave (no current event reference intended): the perfect schedule. I trotted down my 12 moderately inclined steps and promptly paid for two more nights and the cook-top/gas. Done. I mean, I was going in to the meditation centre for the free drop-in class and my "inquiry" for the course was really just going to be an apology for wasting their time in my initial assessment. The class was full and I was satisfied with the way things were working out.

My course approximately as follows:

5:15am - wake up alarm (with a 15 minute buffer)
5:30am - meditation, mantra and toothbrushing/related duties
6:05am - yoga asana practice
7:05am - mindful breakfast (fruit and porridge)
7:30am - go for a walk
8:00am - do some writing (stop for tea)
(9:00am - drop-in meditation class)
10:30am- alternate: silence or exploring or reading
11:30am - lunch
afternoon - some combination of the morning (minus waking up) ... let's not get TOO carried away with this planning stuff! I AM trying to Go-With-The-Flow here.

Except for today, the first day... I already changed the schedule - with 24hour hot water the temptation to do laundry was too great! At 6:00 I was scrubbing clothes and pushing my schedule back a bit. But it was the right choice judging by the colour of the post-wash water. Ugh. One bad thing though... the detergent I bought must have been super-strong-ultra power and my new grey pants turned white! Oh... wait.. no. Those were the white pants. Ewww. Nevermind.

While eating my breakfast (not on schedule) of an overpriced and under-ripe mango I observed with sharp accuracy a delightful cut on my lip. While getting dressed I noticed yet MORE grime on my allegedly-laundered clothes. While stretching in yoga postures I realized just how steep these hills really are! And after all this mindful observing I noticed I should get going since it was already 8 o'clock and planned to walk the approximately... uh... triple-than-the-bus-depot-on-my-free-(potentially)-not-to-scale-tourist-map distance. On uhh.. meditation-centre road? Yeah, I needed to give myself a bit of "getting lost" time. At least an hour! I put on my shoes and for good time's sake even tossed the map into my bag (and an orange should I get REALLY lost... or just need to re-locate that Lip-Cut again) and headed out.

After about 10 minutes of walking (backpackless) I was at the bus depot. I made a note and removed my previous hatred to and mental curse on the author of the subjective phrase about "accommodation," "near," and "easy." It was really just the pack-horse role I had been playing last time. This distance twice over? Ha! I was practically whistling on the main road out of town towards my second check-point: the church of St. John in the Wilderness. I was glad to see the meditation centre was past this way because I wanted to see when the service was because for some reason I felt drawn to it when I had first read about it online. I guess it was the Flow-in-Advance. There had been a government sign indicating it was only 1 km past the bus depot so I was confident I'd see it in about 15 minutes. The landmark that shouted to me on the way into town would be easy to spot again: the Only-One-I've-Seen-In-India Cemetery.

With my shawl wrapped around me the sun was starting to feel warm, but the air that ran past my arms was a contradictory chill that managed to keep things homeostatic. There was comfort in the quietude of the morning walk and adventure in the unknown road ahead. Then I heard some footsteps coming up behind me, quickly, and the comfort evaporated like spit on a Las Vegas sidewalk in August. People, generally do not "go jogging" in India so my usual explanation was out. My real first thought though, I'm proud to say as it makes me feel well-adjusted culturally-speaking, was "Grumpy Monkey(s)!" I was scared for a second but knew what I would do, kinda. Before I could pick up my Don't-Come-Any-Closer Rock (that-I-could-never-actually-hurt-you-with-cute-little-monkey) something was at my left hand (which I slipped into my pocket (for safety?) only to find a very non-threatening raspberry lemonade chapstick). A dog.

At this point I didn't feel at all relieved but HAD re-assessed the value of my purse as a weapon of force with the wallet, camera and journal spinning around me as the centrifuge. Trying to avoid any use for violence my steps quickened... and the dog's slowed. Until it matched my pace. Great. But at least it wasn't attacking (yet). It politely listened to me say "Stop!" and "NO!" in both English and Hindi (Hindi first, of course) and then circled behind me once and happily led the way. I took a breath and again felt secure with my choice NOT to get the rabies vaccine back home. I kept walking and it occurred to me that maybe this four-legged lone blonde female had just wanted company and I was a safe choice. I decided this was it and changed my projected-energy field of hatred to one of appreciative satisfaction. At least this company was not staring at me, trying to sell me something or asking awkward personal questions. Simple camaraderie and a bit of guidance. I could use that. After 10 minutes my mammalian friend knew I'd be alright and wandered off back to town just as the first stones of the cemetery came into view.

It was really beautiful too. Crumbling concrete crosses, one hundred years in the sun shine-y hills just Allowing. No paths to guide. No judgments to make. Accepting all that came from the ground and the sky and the blunt force of the Universal Flow. The caretakers were not far off though. I could see the three of them working close together - dark skin contrasting all the bright glowing greens and light memorial stone. They tended a set of four graves: two with small up-standing headstones and two with stone partially outlining the rectangular plots. All were flat as pasture on a small plateau of this Himalayan hillside, which was particularly convenient for the custodians' hooves and the grazing process they performed habitually, effortlessly, fluidly.

Walking on I passed the stone church with a red roof and noted the service time posted on a sign near the road: tomorrow, 11:00 AM. Then I greeted the little town that was introduced to me by a sharp left turn of the road. The atmosphere was relatively quite but I was once again the Oddity. It surprises me that this still, well, surprises me. The discomfort grows in my torso somewhere and then triggers an emergency maneuver to "look busy" to avoid the onlooking stares. Staring (as a woman FROM India told me) is something of a National Past-time here. That is hilarious because it's true. ONLY because it's true. This time my tactic for avoiding the acknowledgment of said past-time was to pull out my map and look engrossed. Within five seconds I wasn't faking it. I was riveted. I was confirming I was going in the correct direction: turn right soon and then second left... turns out I should have pretended to need my map a lot sooner... that right turn had been just BEFORE the bus depot and the second left not far after. Ooookay. I am definitely not meant to be at that meditation centre. By my watch I barely had enough time to get back to town and find that left hand turn, let ALONE get lost three more times which is my personal average. But. Maybe. One.... ofthesetaxis? no. They are not stopping for me. Alright. Alright! You win, I'll go with the Flow.

Then the third taxi stopped, let everyone out and called to me, "taxi?" Well, my name's Lyndia but let's talk. "How much to the meditation centre?" 100 RUPEES! You've GOT to be kidding me! Yeah, I am definitely not going to make it on time. Sorry. I politely declined saying it was too expensive and walked on. He called again, "just into town?" That was also quite appealing and likely only half the fare or less. I considered but skeptically asked, "kitana?" To which he nodded, "Free. I'm going there anyway." I couldn't refuse that kind of wave pushing me in the right direction.

Uncharacteristically I sat in the front seat. Uncharacteristically the driver spoke quite a bit of English. So we chatted. Nothing fancy but more conversation than I'd had in two days. He even indulged my question about the distance from the bus depot to the meditation centre. (3km, uphill). Judging by the time that was not going to be possible without some automobile convayance. And I really did want to do some meditation here in Dharmsala... I concented to the outrageous fee and was driven up to my destination. Five and a half kilometres, steep incline (he threw it in at least second gear for parts) AND my propensity of getting lost? Probably worth the $2.75 Canadian. I'm sure I'll find a way to recover from the dredges of bankruptcy this luxury is leading me to.

Two small white buildings and a chain between were the main entrance of the meditation camp. The welcome "May All Beings Be Happy" was painted with a floral flourish on the clean concrete. I walked into the biggest building with the biggest door assuming size mattered and would lead me to the place to ask questions. Wrong. But there was a kindly sign announcing it was SATURDAY (which alleviated my fear of this all being in vain if it were no-drop-in-class SUNDAY as I have been known to be a day off in my arrivals...). I walked out again. I saw a fairly obvious sign with a very informative arrow "reception." Ah. I went around the corner and readied myself for the apology I was going to make.

"Sorry we're closed" was smiling back at me from the glass office door, as it would be for another 45 minutes until 9:30 as the Office Hours sign indicated. I casually read the posters and notices on the windows with course details, annual schedules, rules and likely began to look suspicious but wasn't sure where to go or what to do. In the course of my readings I also learned that the 9AM drop-in class was actually at 9:15 so I had a bit more time to kil...enjoy. Then a staff person snuck through the door beside me with a tea in hand. It was definitely the "darting" style of movement which felt as though to say, "oh, we are definitely still closed." I could wait until after the drop-in class. I had time.

I opted to do this waiting on the patio with a few other uncomfortable looking people who I assumed were also there for drop-in. They were sitting on the plastic patio furniture enjoying the natural surroundings and watching the monkeys. It's always wise to keep one's eye on the monkeys. So I did the same - sat down, enjoyed the beautiful trees and hills and kept tabs on the monkeys, but they were calm so I pulled out my journal. I had a table to myself because I was in the corner. Corners are places where I feel safer for awkward waiting situations so that brown plastic chair was all mine. After three lines of writing about how I finally made it to the meditation centre the atmosphere changed with the shouts of perturbed monkeys. I was about to look up when my peripheral vision announced it would be better to stand up, quick! as one of the feud-ers (a big mama monkey toting her infant) was headed toward... my head. As casually as can be assumed with a potentially aggressive, nursing wild animal is in close proximity and all human eyes are turned toward it (in this case 8 including my own) I picked myself up, avoided eye contact with the monkey by spinning around it and found myself a new brown-plastic, non-corner chair. Turns out my theory of corner-safety does NOT always apply. One pair of eyes I did make contact with belonged to a compassionate dread-locked young woman who smiled knowingly and compassionately.

By 8:55am my unofficial-BoyScout-ness kicked in and the "Be Prepared" motto was in full gear. I had to go to the not-yet-open-but-still-staffed office. I didn't know where this drop-in class was happening. I peeked in apologetically and was informed the class was "upstairs." Okay good. I could deal with the other bit about missing the course registration later. But now, which stairs? The stone steps back by the front gate seemed accurate but not appropriate but I climbed them anyway to get a better view of how many other steps of stairs I might have to choose between. More than three. Shoot. I felt a bit of panic at the potential of having to go back to "Sorry We're Closed" to clarify this, likely obvious point. But having no idea I resigned myself to ask again and was back on the ground when obvious arrow caught my attention, this time with the message "Meditation Hall." Ha, yeah. Of course. The stairs right above the office. That makes sense.

Meditation Hall door is not open so I sit and wait. This time the sitting is more comfortable because there are no monkeys around but less comfortable because I am sure the wooden bench that is both narrow and wobbly will not hold both me and the spray bottle of glass cleaner that was already seated there. I hold out for the Windex to move and sit precariously mentally noting a few things:

a) I can't see the mountains from here. This is, apparently, a big deal to me. I can see the trees and hills which are enchanting but it feels a bit like being in the Rocky Mountains - nothing wrong with that, of course, I'm a fan actually. But I'm pretty sure I didn't take 7 busses in India to feel like I was in my home province for a week.
b) it's not just this bench... but I don't feel comfortable here, not Right Now. Something is making me anxious
c) the sign says "Silence Please" but so many people seems to translate that as 'whisper.' Hmm.

The teacher arrives and the class starts. Three quarters of an hour fly by and the meditation practice is really good. There is a chance for questions and answers and all of a sudden... I'm feeling anxious again. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan, a HUGE FAN of listening and contributing to discussions about Religion, really! But something isn't clicking. The room is beautiful but a bit foreign. The energy is positive but also a bit daunting. Then I realize this opportunity for processing all-kinds of new, intermediate knowledge drains the post-meditative rush right from me. It's not anxiety I'm feeling... it's a sort of dread. Another question leads to an announcement about a fundraiser calendar being sold for Tibetan-prisoners. My mind is re-occupied with the present and leaves the dread behind: 12 great Buddhist images and 365 proclamations of the type and intensity of daily auspiciousness? For 100 rupees? Cool! The point-of-sale is the library and I wanted to check that out anyway. I'm 90% sold on the calender too, as long as "May" has a good picture and my birthday happens to be Auspicious this year. I'm unabashedly judgmental of calendar this way. But for two dollars??

The Meditation Hall empties and the dread returns. I'm going to have to return to the office to be directed to the library. Shoot. I *should* simply be excited: a library, a calendar, an easy apology. But it's all dread. Of what? The only way to find out is to go in... and make the apology and get it over with. They aren't going to lynch me or fine me or jail me! I'll just walk in, introduce myself and ask to speak to the author of the considerate emails I received, apologize to her and float on over to the library. "We're Open" has ousted it's other half and someone's already taken advantage of the office hours. An older gentleman is talking with the staff person from earlier. Super polite Lyndia waits outside a minute but no break in conversation. However, I do notice it's about country of origin and recent countries of residence - not too critical - so I knock and ready my apology, "Excuse me again, sorry to interrupt but I'm... not sure of my way around and want to go to the library." Reply. Close door. Walk off.

Wait. What? That was it? I didn't say anything? I ditched out? No. Sure I didn't. I'm just waiting until the office is empty and will return after I visit the library. Yeah, after the library.

It checks out, the library and I check out, two books. May 12th is auspicious this year and I also have a copy of the calendar in hand. I also learn that although my birthday Thursday is gonna be a great day the typical-celebratory Friday is totally inauspicious for having guests over. So DO NOT expect a party that day! I head back to the office with my stuff and take a slight detour, following yet another new sign "Shortcut to Mcleod Ganj" instead. Yup. I walked away. I totally did not apologize. What a jerk!

Now the Flow is back to stable. Good. I know I'm not going to be in the course and probably that I'll have a bit of bad karma for being so mindfully rude too! I head to the Internet cafe to do some blogging and will then go back to rest in my room (it WAS a 3km walk back!). Email #2: "yes there is one more space left. Please come and see us in the office this morning." Wha?! Holy Crap! If I would have said something I still could have registered! I could still register! Maybe I could run down and get my bags and be out the 800 rupees for the two pre-booked rooms and the 300 rupees for the cooking gas and the 100 more rupees for the taxi back up to the centre... wait. Wait! Think for a second here. I was just there. I didn't even ask.! Actually, I don't wanna go. Yes, after ALL that. I don't even want to take the course!? FLOW WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!

to be continued...

by LyndiaP April 2011 (part 3 of 4)

Seasick (4/4)

(I hoped to have this done for you yesterday but the ongoing-Flowing had me one day delayed. I spontaneously went on a day-trip to various monasteries and tea gardens in Himachal Pradesh. Here's the last installment of Seasick. Oh, and I have managed to finish writing another story but doubt I'll have it typed up before I leave for Germany on the 19th of April.)

First Pictures of that Excursion

Back at Snow Height 7 I ask when the gas will be delivered. Reply? 1 Hour. My estimate: 2 hours. But that's fine. I've got no where to be... anymore. I'll relax here, do some writing, gaze out my window, read some of these library books. I know! I'll test this response - it is now 1pm. I'll hang my clothes to dry, have a snack and read for an hour on the balcony (see if the gas actually arrives). After that I'll do some writing. At 2:10pm I open my journal with my itching question to the Flow of Life: "UNIVERSE WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" and hear a knock on the door. Gas Delivery. This includes not only the 5kg tank and dual-burner cook top, oh no! At Snow Height they do it up right. I also got a pot-pan hybrid, a white mug (made in India), two plastic spoons, a knife and a metal bowl. Things are set and ready for home-cooking action! My 7-11 clerk/hotel manager assumes a new role of Propane-Tank-Hooker-Uper and ensures that the cook top is attached, tested and (critically) the soon-to-be-user (Me) knows how to turn it off - in BOTH places. (thank you - I likely would have slowly gas-poisoned myself if left without instruction. Seriously. I never would have checked the second off valve. I'm not sure if I'd have been any closer to Enlightenment that way... unless someone lit a match I suppose.) His last piece of advise? My astute, multi-talented host nods at the just-delivered dishes, "I'd wash those." Check.


Apparently washing dishes was EXACTLY what I wanted to do because I felt a sudden urge to grab my shoes, reusable shopping bag and wallet and practically bowl the Gas Man over on his way out so I could purchase dish soap. As I locked the door I started my List Chant: potatoes, rice, onions, tea, milk, soap. It's best to leave the obvious one for last since I'll probably remember it no matter what. I knew it would only take about 15 minutes and it was a road I knew so no camera or other items would be necessary. Good to go. The journal remained open on the bed questioning the Universe as I rush out like a stopwatch has started.


Potatoes, onion, rice, milk, tea. Potatoes, onion, rice, milk, tea. Six items was getting a bit much to remember and I was sure I wouldn't leave without the soap.Up the Three-turn Hill chanting away (in my head of course) and by the last turn I'm breathing a bit heavy and spontaneously choosing to "just see" what this building is on the left (instead of right to the shops. This is exactly the same spot where my Lie to Happy Home dissolved into the straightforward plan of Truth Telling.) If it's something cool and this close by and I've never seen it I'd be a fool. If it's something amazing and this close by, I'll bring my camera next time.


The gate is a bit daunting, okay, really daunting, but there are other foreign-looking people going in and I see a sign that allows me to deduce I am here during "open hours" but the rest of it is in non-English: onward I go! I heard someone call it "The Temple" so maybe? Walking on I bee-line towards the next sign... with more English... about Tibet. I read it. Very informative but about a Tibetan political prisoner not about my current location. I keep walking hoping to see more signage, this time perhaps pointing me in the right direction? And I do. And it's an arrow. (How much more obvious can it get?) The text reads "Temple Entrance." Alrighty. That was clear. I walk up the plain steps and get shuffled into the Ladies line and am scanned and patted down. Happily I don't have anything in my pockets and my empty grocery bag is pretty non-threatening. I check out. I get through... to?? The Temple... courtyard. There are more, slightly more impressive, steps that I climb and in a bigger space upstairs there is a bit of a crowd gathered outside a centre-room surrounded by prayer wheels. Wondering if this is the normal crowd or a special event my awkward-politeness kicks in and I try to avoid getting in peoples' way and avoid being sacrilegious and turning my back on something sacred and avoid putting my still-shoe-clad-feet on any holy ground... mostly I just get the heck out of the way and try at assess things from the back row... where people are doing prostrations. Gak! Where can a girl just collect her bearrings here at the Temple?


I walk around the centre square room and turn the prayer wheels to calm my mind and try to figure out if I should stay or if I should I go (singing a -surely inappropriate -chorus of The Clash's song in a similar vein). I opt for the former and stay. The crowd it building and it seems like the-place-to-be. I make my final clockwise turn (the auspicious way to walk around Buddhist temples and stupas etc.) and a security-looking guy swoops in and asks me (kindly) to keep moving. This particular quite corner is quite for a reason. A reason I also do not understand but I won't let that stop me.


On my first awkward walk in the crowd I remember seeing a stack of sitting-cushions near the prostrate-ers. I head back over there and re-assess. First of all, the crowd has doubled since when I was there last and I crane my neck to find the attraction. The shrine? The monks? The chanting? All awesome, yes, but for over 100 people and growing? Most of which are seated uncomfortably on concrete (they didn't assess long enough to find the sitting cushions!) The vast majority are chatting under the silence-please sign and not doing anything close to chanting or praying or prostrations so they can't be here for a religious experience, can they? I sit down (on an already-empty cushion) and wait. Listen. Meditate.


As the crowd grows people are shifting or congregating on the left of the open door. To heighten the suspense I am feeling ever more, I am seated on the right. I see nothing. Well, that's not true. I see a monk beating a drum. I see the bottom half of a huge shrine. I see the other monk with a huge yellow hat giving offerings to said shrine. That's cool don't get me wrong. But clearly no one is looking at that... Whatever, I'm waiting it out. I am starting to feel that this chant IS the main event and if so I wish more people would observe the Silence, please.


Beside me an Australian woman with a mala is not observing the silence and when her friend joins her (led by a Buddhist nun) she responds, "oh wow, really?" when the other laywoman excitedly hisses, "I saw!" Jeez! This is like a nasty trick. Now I KNOW there's something great and have no idea what's going on. But it's something. They continue to chat but get back into the volume of silence making my eavesdropping extremely difficult. All of a sudden I get what I need. The non-mala woman whispers, "blah blah blah...so great to just be able to see the Dalai Lama like that." AH HA! SWEET! That's it! I didn't think he was in India right now. I guess that was wrong. He's here. He's the main attraction. But those women only say him because they were with the nun. Am I going to be the only sucker who didn't know where to go to see the Dalai Lama? Another woman to my other side is writing in a journal (a kindred soul) I ask her "can you just... my shoes? I'm just going to..." and point over to the left corner of the door were 20 people are standing in the space for 3. She smiles accommodatingly and understandingly. Yes! I'm going to see the Dalai Lama!


I make my way over to the corner and squeeze through a bit and am headed off by some monks/nuns. Well, shoot. They definitely get presidence. I am NOT pushing a nun in temple. So I Flow in on the Tide and go back out. After creeping back to my inauspicious shoes on my sitting cushion with an inauspicious view I kindly, silently thank my co-journal-writer for her watchful eye. Back to waiting.  Maybe he'll exit out this front door? Maybe he'll talk? Actually this crowd is DEFINITELY not big enough for a talk. I listen to the chantings. 3 minutes, 5 minutes. It's really quite lovely.


Then it stops. People of the crowd are now, actually, silent. Shifting and shuffling the crowd swells with an orderly control. It is 3:20pm. Monks begin to file out and pick up their shoes off the holding racks. Bodyguards assume their positions. Then His Holiness the fourteenth Dalai Lama comes right out the door and is only 8 feet in front of me. Honestly I felt a new kind of wave - a wave of spiritual-ness and fancy Buddhist energy. It nearly rocked my poor seasick cells sick. And I was in awe. Really. It was just so cool! I just HAPPENED to be in Dharmsala, just HAPPENED to be in the home-temple of His Holiness where he JUST HAPPENED to be presiding over the afternoon ceremonies.


Sure it might seem like a minor thing - it's not like we had tea but there is NO way I could have planned something like that. Or if I had I would have been stressed out for at least 48 hours trying to make it all work out. I strolled out of the complex with the masses feeling energized and grateful. Instead of getting silly or teary-eyed I glanced at the board outside and read the next Public Appearances of His Holiness - in two days he'll be gone again. His next stop? Ireland.


Funny, mine too. (kinda)

by LyndiaP April 2011

Breaking News

I have taken a government-bus (as opposed to a charter or "tourist" one).

I have also take a series of mini-buses... like four, subsequent to said government-bus... in one day.

and I have arrived:

In Dharmsala/Mcleod Ganj (and I am still not quite sure what exactly the difference is...)

I will (likely not) be taking a 6 day meditation course here as originally planned as my rushed email reading caused a significant oversight that most likely cost me my registration. But since I am going with the flow... I say a hearty MEH!

Am I disappointed? You betchya!
Am I totally unsure what I'm gonna do now? You know it!

Am I going to have a great time anyway? UNDOUBTEDLY!

p.s. if I am my more-than-sneaking-suspicion is accurate and I am not in the meditation course I will hit up an Internet-Cafe-Overlooking-the-Snowy-Peaks-of-the-Himalayas again and update you on the adventures in Jammu too! Spoiler alert: it was a great time.

Ja-me. Ja-you. Jammu!

I have arrived by train (after a very life-experiencey-type saga) in Jammu & Kashmir.

I am enjoying the time staying with Banita's family and trying to see some of the sights!

We visited a temple this morning (really early to beat the rush and the funny part was we did... because it wasn't QUITE open yet - but it was lovely to see in the sunrise only about half of the shrines... and I did get to witness and join in on a "Temple Opening Puja Ceremony" (not the official name, I'm sure). Also hit up the Bazaar and found some nice stuff - including some traditional fabric with hand-done stitch work that I'm having made into a suit. Should be awesome!

Today I will be heading out to the Vaishno devi Temple (near Katra at almost 5200 feet) for an all-night walking yantra (or "journey" which is 14km each way) in celebration of the twice annual festival to the goddess.

Here we go!

(and then back in time to sleep... and then catch a bus to Dharmsala/Mcleod Ganj where I think I've been accepted to a Tushita meditation course!)

Moving On

It is with some sadness (yet with some excited anticipation too) that I will be saying good bye to Doon School and Dehradun. I am heading off to Jammu and Kashmir today (April 3rd or "yesterday" in India, as such I am probably already on the train or at my destination).

I am SO excited to go on a vist with Banita to her home! It's going to be wonderful!
I am sure to have more blog posting to do but, again, am not sure what the time will be like for the Internet(s). As such... I will try to post updates when I can but it might be a bit delayed. But that doesn't mean I don't love you.

Unexpected Picture with the Goddess Kali to prove I still love you.

Report Card for a Month at Doon

(as a final reflection on what I've learned while at the Doon School in Dehradun I composed this article to share my experience and gratitude with the people of Doon - April 3, 2011)

Report Card for a Month at Doon

When I came to Doon School at the beginning of March I had signed up to teach but also planned to learn as much as I could. At the end of this short term I felt I should assess myself, a report card of sorts. I expected to have a grade in Teaching Yoga to Youth and Social Service in India. The unofficial course descriptions for these two classes being "adapting the instruction of yoga asana for a class of teen-aged students" and "supervising students and participating in a variety of social justice projects" respectively. While assigning myself a grade for how well I taught yoga doesn’t seem proper I can evaluate how much I've learned. From class structure and planning to the excellent questions asked by the C-Formers, my perception of yoga warrants 70%. For Social Service my "assignments" were varied and three had substantial impact: the Bindal School, the John Martyn Memorial School and the trip with O and T House A-Formers to the Almora area. It impressed me to see the Doscos who served the Bindal students; inspired me to experience how the John Martyn School embraced education; and the expedition to Almora-area villages and the A-Formers with whom I explored provoked a deep inquiry and motivation about how to contribute meaningfully to society. Those four words (as both revelation and complication): impressed, inspired, inquiry and motivation were precisely what I needed for my own future endeavors: 96%.

That is where I expected my evaluation to end. However, I came to realize I had also attended two "unregistered" classes the first being Foreign Languages. As it turned out Hindi was not the primary language I was learning and I'm sure I picked up more in both "Body Language" and "Doon School." The latter unexpected language learning came quickly as I navigated new (to me) definitions and concepts like "passing out," "forms" and "cricket" (which I formerly only understood as 'fainting,' 'paper questionnaires' and 'small chirping bugs with wings' - actually, I had heard of the sport of Cricket before, but had never seen it played, let alone watched World Cup matches on T.V.). My effort in Hindi was a lot less impressive than I expected so I can only grade myself 50%.

My final course? It would have to be entitled something like Practicum in Excessive-Control Prevention. I knew I had a great deal to learn on the subject - with my background in event planning, organizational management and even post-secondary studies all the drives to schedule and over-plan are in overdrive while the ability to allow for flexibility and spontaneity is in sore disuse. I must admit I did not expect to have the experience of allowing life to unfold of its own accord in the midst of a well-structured and disciplined environment of a high-caliber residential school. Perhaps it was because of this that I could allow myself to enjoy what life had to offer from yoga lessons and art projects to dancing the jhoda, playing Holi and accompanying American exchange students – I was continually reminded to relinquish the impulse for meticulous over-management and enjoy every moment. Even though I have a lot more to learn, these life-lessons were revolutionary and worthy of an 97%.

It was a month of learning I won't soon forget. The lessons, the exercises and the classes were, of course, critical but were it not for all the people here at Doon - their creativity, cleverness and camaraderie - I doubt I would have learned nearly as much. So to all of you, my teachers, I extend my gratitude.

Stories

After a long drive from Almora to Dehradun (13.5 hours to be exact) I had many ideas for "blog posts" and "stories" but I am having a very difficult time trying to figure out which is which and what will be what.

One really great one in my mind's blog post category (from Amritsar actually) has now become much longer than the length suitable for a respectable post and it's more of a short story. Sadly, I do not (as of yet) have a venue for said stories and so will be writing them down without a definite home for them. My point though is that I don't want to write about it on the blog in a half-hearted way and spoil the story. Make sense?

So this is kind of like an apology of sorts... I have a few great stories to tell you but really don't feel like

a) the blog is the right place for them
b) I have time to finish/polish/type them to share yet
c) I want to make two versions of all these adventures since then I wouldn't actually have time for more adventures/reflections.

Why am I telling you all this now? Well... on the Almora trip there were at least three new adventures that I started to write in my journal, then lo and behold! They all turned into stories. Sorry.

What I WILL say about the trip was that it was really great to spend time with some of the boys (and two girls) from Tata House and Oberoi House who I didn't know before. AND to be able to travel to a new and slightly remote part of Uttarakhand to see some breathtakingly beautiful scenes and some amazing people passionately working to make their lives better (with the help of other amazing, passionate people who are selflessly working to ensure that first set of wonderful people can get the support, training and encouragement they need. USNPSS is quite the organization and I KNOW I will be taking a great deal from this trip towards my future endevours.)

p.s. I also have some GREAT pictures!! But  you will have to see me in person for those.

Trust

Leopard poop was sighted.

An extremely good question was fielded "What if the leopard comes back?"

Luckily (for everyone but me) we determined that as a foreign-delicacy I was the first one to go. Sacrifices must be made. However, our wild-feline friend did not present itself again on our walk through the hills. I guess that was a bit of trust.

I am also quite sure to trust the ability to strenghten the community with dedicated work, passion and good intentions - not necessarily "expertise" like a degree (which I still intend on getting though). After learning more about and experiencing first hand some of the absolutely amazing work being done by the Uttarakhand Seva Nidhi Paryavaran Shiksha Sansthan (aka. a state specific NGO that works with local women in villages for environmental education, childrens' education and girls' education which ultimately has culmunitate in heartening women's and community empowerment in the most literal and inspiring sense of the word.

But mostly the trust I realized was in the fact that on my 60th Day of the my trip that I actually hadn't written down the emergency numbers associated with my credit card(s) and health insurance. So it seemed like a prime time to do so. That time was exactly while driving in the Himalayan foothills in a white Tata jeep with the windows wide open. That. That is trust.

One step forward...

...two steps back... towards the Indo-Pakistan border. The rest of the trip is planned (and train tickets are booked/paid-for/planned/scheduled). From here on out no more "big" decisions to make... well not about what place to experience. And NO "one-day-per-city" stops*. I am so excited!

Here's the run down for anyone singing along or placing bets:

- three days in a village of the Almora-region of Uttarakhand for a social service project. (I am currently there but pre-wrote this since there is definitely no Internet here)
- five days in Jammu and Kashmir (Jammu) for a Goddess-related festival (this is in the Pakistan direction again)
- seven days in Dharamsala (at least three of which I intend to have in silence)
- three days in Delhi (then off to Germany!)

So there you have it. No, there I have it. I can't believe it's already down to the last four or so weeks of my trip. I also can't believe that I think four weeks seems like very little time, most times four weeks is an amazing length of holiday time! :)


*I am still asking The question - to Agra or not to Agra? (which, for anyone not fluent in Wonders-of-the-World-associated-with-geographic-location, means the Taj Mahal. I've had VERY mixed reviews about it. AND I don't want to do the ultra-touristy things - but I will be in Delhi and the Golden Temple WAS breath-taking and I love it... plus I've only ever been awe-struck by things like the Eiffle Tower, Great Wall, Coliseum, Panama Canal (Miaflores) and the Blue Mosque... ah well I have three and a half weeks to decide. Com'on Flow! I'm going where ever you take me!

ERRATA

It is with sincere apologies that the editor of this blog addresses an inaccuracy that appeared recently. The statement of measurement "5 cows" made in regards to the distance from the Golden Temple to the hotel the author resided in during her visit to Amritsar . This is a complete and utter (slight pun intended) fallacy. The author did not even observe 5 cows in all of the city of Amritsar in the period of March 22-24 (inclusive), let alone between monument and accommodations.

Please accept this apology. In light of such blatant, lying exaggeration one factual note - however, potentially more unbelievable than the false-cows: the existence of a mirage-like place called the Galaria. It confounded the India-adjusted senses and boggled the logical capacity of all linguistic likelihoods!

First off, that such a clean picturesque park existed, UNINHABITED only a few metres from the main road by a major tourist/pilgrimage site in a city of 1 million people is hard to conceptualize at all in India (for this author, at least). BUT that it also had well-manicured lawns, marble steps, fountains (albeit off), patios AND beautiful magenta-blooming shade-giving trees?! I almost teared up and was certainly speechless.

Tree in the Galaria outside the Golden Temple

It also had a lovely walking path (used by less than 10 people while I was there) and seeing that it was all shady and cool in the 30C degree + day... I was again surprised that there were so few people there!



So I sat myself down with my newly acquired book* on Sikh Philosophy and let my mind into this parkland oasis and allowed my senses a reprieve from the endless hectic show of which I tend to be a spectacle. (As all blonde (or red-) haired people in Asia can basically attest to.) Then I took a break from reading and just observed.



*Book note: I've gotta STOP buying books and start taking more pictures of flowers... the latter takes up WAY less suitcase space!



Rested.

And a little boy crossed the marble steps in front of me and a poem-like feeling crossed my mind.

barefoot and kicking

flower petals

Enter: A playful Breeze



to perpetuate the game -

tickling the blossoming branches

until one more floral ball

dives

in a delighted dance

into the arms of awaiting gravity

to twirl it gently

dip and spin

releasing softly to the



marble steps

to rest

poised

yet eagerly counting down

the next pair of bare

feet to come

and join the game.

After the Flower Kicker came the Flower Pickers

 THEN THIS HAPPENED! Little girls replaced the little boy and began to gather the flowers as I was taking some macro-floral shots. I gave them my photographic subject and then they...

Flower Girls (who ASKED me to take their photo - uh, YES!)

It was such a beautiful afternoon and I was even able to tell the portrait-girls that they were beautiful too! (my one minor accomplishment in Hindi... soon eradicated when they asked me a question about the picture that I was beyond useless to answer further than: A polite smile. I know I missed something...)

**oh and further note to the book-note: I am quite sure my 40Litre backpack must be, literally, 14Litres of books right now. Possibly 15L - too many Litres, L* too many Litres.

SUPER AmritS(T)AR

Yes, it is actually Amritsar but for some reason (and far too long) I referred to it (mentally, verbally and awkwardly) as Am-rit-star... nope. I might as well call Canada something like Ken-add-aye. Anyways my Amritsari experience has been so awesome I'll never pronounce it incorrectly again!

Seriously the only bad thing (which may have more to do with Mother Nature than the city) has been the excessive amount of mosquitoe bites I've gotten... in one night while I was sleeping* I got at least 12. And I know I was sleeping because the little devil bumps of swollen itchy-ness are in practical places like between my toes, on the sole of my foot, THREE on one elbow, on the back of EACH hand and on the knuckle of my right index finger. Yes, I have an itemized list!

What makes it a Super Star? Well for one I stumbled across one of the best hotels of all (which was even recommended in my Lonely Planet guide I left at home - see how good my instincts are?!) and have had a great time with Hotel Grace as my home base. It's only a few blocks* from the Golden Temple, they are well connected for info and tours and the like and I AM EATING LIKE A QUEEN AN ARMY OF QUEENS!

*the concept of blocks does not really exist here but it's the easiest way for me to describe. I doubt the more accurate descriptions of "five cows" or "18 souveiner shops" will paint a very exact picture.

Since I am feeling a bit tired after all my adventures today (and, honestly, I was just invited for an Indian whiskey so that trumps extended blogging, sorry folks).

Preparing for a Technocolour Surprise

I went out this morning: clean pale skin, long blonde hair, light denim pants, white t-shirt (and two white "under-layers" just-in-case-of-water-splashing).

I came back later this afternoon: green and yellow arms, pink & red face, orange-yellow-pink hair, rainbow spattered jeans and a neon camoflauge t-shirt that also tattooed my skin. I was plastered, layered in colour!

Post-Holi, Final Form

Happy Holi!

I spent an equal amount of time playing Holi and I did washing it off... scrubbing face, scrubbing clothes, scrubbing bathroom after the fact. Only slight fear? When my hair was rinsing reddish-pink after the second wash, but no harm done. Except for a patch of un-exposed skin (still) retaining a beautiful florescent-watermelon-with-vibrant-green-dots...

Let the HOLI-Playing Begin!

I arrived at the school outside the Rose Bowl at 10:12am and within 10 minutes the lawn, paths and students didn't look the same. I was given a packet of light-green dust (of an All-Natural vairety) and tried to figure out the game. An adult learning to play. A grown-up trying to celebrate a childhood she never knew. A Yes Ma'am being politely smeared with the powdered colours of Holi.

Girls of Many Colours: Where's Lyndia?

So you may be wondering - music? dancing? organized chaos? What's NOT to love? and more importantly... why? I asked around. I looked things up... and I learned the following:

- there are two kinds of Holi but it's kinda morphed into one celebration, always in the spring. Always on the Last Full Moon Day of the Feb/March lunar month.
  a) bonfires lit on Holi-eve for the Holika Dahan (or burning of Holika - a religious story in which God prevails.).
  b) colour! commonly played with both dry and wet colour, water guns, water balloons
- it's a festival that equalizes all people (and no one is safe!)
- always to the sounds of the Dholaks (traditional drums).

Dance! Dance! Dance!

- sometimes it gets out of hand and people in the streets start throwing less friendly colours... like paint.
- celebrations are bigger in North India but are epic in West Bengal where they start with music and singing at 6am! Also celebrated in Nepal & Sri Lanka.
- things usually calm down by lunch. Or at least by 2pm.
- it AWAYS rains just before or just after Holi. (This year it was the evening before so the colour-dusted streets are fun reminders of my first celebration!)
- at Doon they are still respectful and as I was encouraging one boy to throw the colour on me he advised otherwise "Actually Ma'ma it can get in people's eyes." - good point my multi-coloured-young-sir. Good ponit.
- There are sweets and snacks all OVER the place!



Colour Layer 1 of approximately 7

 Obviously... I LOVED IT!

St. Patrick's Day at the Hill Station

Ambassador

Helpful signposts

Hill Station view

The Library (aka. bazaar)

The Mall (aka. Main Street)

This and next year's Saint Patrick Days will be unique. This year will be celebrated with the least amount of fanfare possible. Ever. No green beer. No "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirts. No four leaf clovers. No jigs or drinking songs.

I am frightfully sure that next year will more than make up for it. I'm sure I will be shocked.

However, today I am just waiting for an Ambassador (hopefully white!) to take me up to the Hill Station. How much more British Raj can it get? I will stop for tea and hope to brush up on my accent at the very least. Maybe I should also find a white safari hat and suit and ivory walking cane to tour around with? I think St. George* might be the closest I come to celebrating any Saints today...

Mussoorie here I come!

Former misunderstandings, busted:

NOT Missouri, USA

NOT a restaurant in Dehradun.

Fast facts I just armed myself with:

Altitude 1880m,

aka Queen of the Hills,

snow-ranges to the North East and the Doon Valley in the South.

In 1832 was intended to be the termination point of the great Survey of India to set up a new office for the Surveyor General (not the Surgeon General...)

The name Mussoorie is attributed to a derivation of 'mansoor', an indigenous shrub. As of 2001, there are about 26,000 people living there.

*Home to Woodstock (school) and St. George's college.

Camel's Back road is a point of interest along with Bhatta Falls, Nag Devta temple to Snake-God Shiva, the Municipal Gardens, the Library Bazaar and Sir George Everest's house (yes, the mountain was named after THIS Everest).

And the town is also home to India's largest roller skating rink.